


An Accident of Biology and of Sentiment

by Eva



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Deathfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eva/pseuds/Eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft doesn't think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Accident of Biology and of Sentiment

***

He plays such intricate games with the world that he sometimes thinks himself more than he is: a God, perhaps; or at the very least a magician.

This is not hubris. This is not punishment. It is an accident of biology and of sentiment.

***

Practicality is not in the nature of a Holmes.

And yet he apes it, moving systematically from room to room, removing small objects here and there. A razor. A dented travel mug. A sock that has long lost its match.

He doesn’t think.

***

John reasons. “He wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

His smile is reflexive and lacks bite. “What he would want doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Rain, he thinks later, surprising himself. What Greg would want is rain. The garden is doing poorly under the oppressive summer sun.

***

Sherlock attacks. “You wouldn’t want to see me like this.”

His words are harsher than Sherlock deserves. “What I want is very different from what I got. Isn’t it.”

A full two hours later, he discovers the cigarette Sherlock has left on his desk.

***

There are warning signs of an aneurysm.

He can recite them now; now that he no longer has reason.

***

He has been accused of planning too far ahead in a volatile world.

“We could be anywhere ten years from now, let alone twenty; how are you so sure we’ll live to see your retirement?”

These are memories he casts aside as he rids the cabinet of coffee he doesn’t drink.

***

In the end, it is in making the tea that he betrays himself, his hand stretching reflexively to grasp the handles of two mugs rather than one.

***


End file.
